


Peach Wood and Pies

by 74days



Series: Zimbits Meet-Cute Au's [9]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Diagon Alley, Jack is from Regina, M/M, Meet-Cute, Stress Baking, squib as a slur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-02 22:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16796104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/74days/pseuds/74days
Summary: Eric Bittle works in Diagon Alley - it's a LARPing dream... or is it?A story about just how oblivious Eric Bittle can be.





	Peach Wood and Pies

Jack liked his job. He had been transferred to Gringotts after a few years working his way up at Maplejars - the Canadian branch of the bank. It had been nice to get away from home for a bit, he got to get on with his work without his father's fame heavy on his shoulders. After all, it was Bad Bob who brought North American Quiddich into popularity - his name was still linked for the Moose Jaw Meteorites even now, over a decade after he retired. Jack had been expected by almost everyone to follow in his father’s footsteps, he was fast on the broom and looked like he had the drive to be the greatest beater of his generation, but Jack had bowed out as gracefully as he could. He didn’t want to play Quiddich. He wanted to go to school, learn history, stand on his own two feet. 

His parents had understood. 

So after he graduated from Bay Isles School for the Magically Gifted, he got a job at Maplejars, using his love of history to work on the Old Curses Department. 

And then, two years ago, he’d been asked to move to Gringotts and head the team there, working out of the oldest and most established Wizarding Bank in the world. He hadn’t excepted right away, because he’d be leaving a lot behind. However, after talking to his parents and weighing up the pro’s and cons, he knew that it would be the best for him. A new start, where no one was going to see him as Bab Bob’s kid - because everyone knew that when it came to Quiddich, the Brits thought that the NAQA teams were second best. 

It had been two of the best years of Jacks life. He met new people who respected him, even a few of the goblins had come to regard him with less and less hostility, which he knew was a big step, and it wasn’t like he was the only non-brit working in Diagon Alley. 

There were the team of lawyers who worked closely with the bank, writing up magical contracts and trying to convince the Ministry of Magic that they really needed to have some kind of legal help for the accused - headed by an Ilvermorny graduate B.S. Knight - who insisted that everyone call him Shitty. It didn’t take the two long to become best friends, because although Shitty knew all about Bad Bob, he didn’t care, and treated Jack like anyone else. 

There was Ransom, who worked at St Mungos and had gone to a muggle school to learn how to be a surgeon before transferring to the wizard hospital. Canadian, like Jack, Ransom was funny and loud, and his best friend, Holster was a giant of a man who worked in accounting, three doors down from Jacks office. 

The four of them, Jack, Shitty, Ransom and Holster often joked about how they were the North American representatives - when they weren’t working they were together, enjoying Magical and Muggle London as much as they could. 

“You know what I don’t get?” Ransom said, as they were sitting in the Cauldron after a long day at work. “Is why everyone is still wearing robes. I mean, I’ll wear em for work, but it’s not exactly… subtle.”

Shitty nodded, lifting up his beer. “It’s gatekeeping.” He said after taking a drink. “A way of keeping the muggleborns feeling that they’re not welcome.” Shitty, who came from a long line of pureblood wizards, had a lot of opinions on the politics of division between the two. “Muggleborns walk in wearing jeans and a shirt, take one look around and know they are different.”

“Only the teachers at Bay Isles wore robes.” Jack added, after thinking about it. “Everyone else just wore jeans and bunnyhugs.”

The table was silent for a moment before Holster snorted into his beer. “Bunnyhugs.” He sniggered, and Jack rolled his eyes. 

“I’m not gonna even touch that, Jackyboy.” Shitty grinned, as the door to the pub opened and a smaller man walked in, followed by a taller, ginger man. Both were carrying boxes of fruit, balanced carefully on top of one another. 

Jack tried not to moved, as Shitty turned to look at him with glee. “Oh, look, Jack. It’s Eric.” 

* * *

Eric Bittle had no idea what was going on half the time - he’d been walking around London, lost as all hell, when he’d noticed a run down bar - or pub, as the locals liked to call it - and ended up walking in to ask for directions. He’d been flustered and lost and completely turned around, when the barman seemed to take pity on his and showed him the way into ‘Diagon Alley’ which turned out to be this hidden little street behind the pub that, and this was the weird thing, didn’t show up on any map Eric had looked at. It wasn’t on Google street view or anything. 

It was, however, a ren faire paradise. People were walking around with owls and robes and doing magic tricks and Eric was absolutely charmed. He’d walked around a little, to get a feel of the place, and saw a little shop tucked into a back corner. It had a selection of cakes and pies (and goodness knows what the British obsession with savoury pies was) and he’d walked in and asked if they needed any staff. He’d been looking for work for a while and really needed something, else he’d have to go back to Georgia and that was the last thing he wanted. 

The owner, a man called Johnston, who was wearing a full robe and a pointy hat (had to be breaking some kind of health code violation, Eric was sure) had been delighted that Eric had asked. He’d been planning on going to Romania to learn about Dragons (Eric had nodded and smiled because really? There was dedication to the aesthetic and then… that…) and just like that, Eric had a job at ‘Breads, Bakes and Buns’ and a room to rent over the shop.

It had taken a while to get used to the money - it seemed like the whole street had a weird currency that made zero sense at all, but Johnston explained it easily enough. Eric just needed to go to the bank and exchange the Galleons and knuts into pounds and pence if he needed to get things from the ‘Muggle’ side of town. 

That was a year ago. 

Now he had a much better understanding of Daigon and the people who lived there - it was a full time LARPing community, where people played at being witches and wizards. Eric had learned the lingo and although sometimes he still tripped up, the people were nice enough not to mention it. He still liked the magic tricks though. Those were a great touch. And the animatronics at the bank. He loved the ‘goblins’.

His favorite time of the year was when the school kids would come through, buying things for the year. He knew all about the ‘school’ they went to, and even themed a few of his creations on the houses. 

Johnston never came back from Romania, and pretty much left Eric to run the shop, which suited him just fine. He hired Dex, who had been LARPING his whole life apparently, and had been working for his cousins at the joke shop before he asked Bitty if he needed any help one day. 

Eric had been over the moon because although he did try his best, sometimes it was very difficult to get into the ‘community’ - Dex took care of that with a smile and didn’t seem too offended when Eric made a mistake. 

And then, a couple of months ago, a man with big sad eyes walked into Eric’s little shop and well… Eric found himself very invested in making sure he came back. 

* * *

“Afternoon Eric!” Holster said, waving at the smaller man, while Jack kicked him under the table. His crush on the tiny baker was a well known fact, and Jack would have said something a long time ago but he never really managed to string two words together in his presence. 

“Heya to you, darlin’,” Eric beamed. “How’s things at the bank?”

“Great!” Holster grinned, kicking Jack back with more force than Jack personally thought was needed. “Jack and I were gonna pop in tomorrow and see if you had any muffins for the office?”

Eric beamed at them both over the crates he was still carrying. “I can make sure that I’ve got something put aside for you, how many were you thinking?”

“Couple dozen?”

“I’ll have them boxed up and ready for ya’ll tomorrow morning.” Eric said, and Jack felt his ears getting warm as Eric gave him a quick smile. He gave a nod, before focusing on his butterbeer. 

The others watched as Eric carried on through the pub, Dex pushing ahead to open the doorway for the smaller man. 

“You know what I just don’t understand?” Ransom said after a few moments. “Is why he doesn’t just levitate the crates when he gets in here?”

“Bro,” Holster said, sounding disappointed in his best friend. “You know Bit’s is a squib, right?”

Jack tuned out the resulting argument from Shitty about why squib is a slur and why using it is just as bad as the old ‘no-maj’ back in the 40’s. He hadn’t really thought about why Eric used manual labour for everything, but that made sense. Jacks mother was a muggle, she hadn’t a clue about the magical world until she met his father. Jack didn’t mind Eric being a squib - or, as Shitty was arguing - a Non-magical Wizard. 

Anyway, Jack had eaten more than his fair share of Eric’s creations and he wasn’t exactly sure if the man wasn’t magic. Surely no-one would be able to make such amazing pies without a little bit of magic in their blood?

* * *

Dex loved working in Trip B, which was what most people called ‘Bread, Bakes and Buns’. It was better than being yet another ginger working at Wheezes, and it meant that he could keep a close eye on Eric Bittle. How the blond ended up in Diagon Alley was completely unexplained - Dex knew a Muggle when he saw one, and despite the fact that Eric really did try to act like he knew what was going on, it was 100% obvious that he hadn't got a clue.

Even after a whole year, the baker still acted like he was in on the ‘big secret’ that it was all fake. Most people thought Bitty was a squib, which explained his lack of wand, but Dex knew better. The man had wandered into Magical London completely by accident and for some reason, managed to stay. Most days he tried to give hints and show little things that would have maybe brought the fact that , yo, magic is real. But Eric just laughed and moved on with a little half smile. 

“I’m telling you,” He said, as he cleaned up the front of the shop around Nursey, who was still writing in his usual spot. “Today he asked me how they managed to work the animatronics remotely when he can’t even get a phone signal in here.”

“What did you say?”

“I said it was magic and he laughed!” 

Nursey snorted. 

“It’s not funny! What’s going to happen when he finds out its real?” Dex groaned, tugging at his apron in frustration. “He’s going to freak out! And leave!”

“So?”

“So?” Dex repeated, hardly believing his ears. “So! He’ll leave! Triple B goes back to Johnston, who won’t keep me on because he’s got no interest in keeping this place running, and you’ll have to find a new place to laze about all day.”

Nursey tried to look offended at that, but they both knew that he’d been barred from Fortescue’s after smashing through the glass cabinet that stored the ice cream no less than four times. 

“And you’ll lose your bet.” He added, because of course, no one could forget the bet. 

The bet. The one that half of the Alley had money on, and the other half were waiting on the outcome like it was some kind of play. 

Nursey had money (15 Galleons) that Jack would ask Eric out first. Dex wasn’t allowed to get in on the action because he was too close to Eric and could possibly influence the outcome. He’d heard that Ollivander had put  _ double  _ that on Eric asking Jack first. 

That Jack liked Eric, no one was in any doubt. The Canadian pretty much turned into a pile of non-verbal goo around the tiny baker, and Eric was just as bad, throwing longing glances from under his lashes. For about a year they’d been doing the same back and forth almost flirting, and for a year everyone had been waiting with bated breath to find out who was going to make the first move. 

Dex just hoped it happened soon. There were only so many heart eyes he could stand at one time. 

* * *

Eric was having a terrible morning. He’d been happily working through the quiet period before the bakery opened when two of the ancient ovens decided to break. Dex wouldn’t be arriving till later and and of course Eric knew that there wasn’t such a thing as a darn phone in these old buildings. How on earth anyone was supposed to get anything done without a phone he had no idea. As far as he knew, Dex didn’t have a mobile, which was taking the whole LARPing thing a bit too far as far as Eric was concerned. Not that his mobile got any signal in the street as it was. Which was a shame, because he could only imagine what cute instagram pictures he could have got from the surrounding stores. 

Then he’d smashed his favorite bowl on the stone floor - cherry filling spraying everywhere and staining everything it touched. 

Giving up, he walked out of the kitchen. He’d just have to wait until Dex arrived and did… whatever he did to make the ovens work again, and Eric would just have to work extra hard to get caught up. 

It was still early enough that the street outside of Bread, Bakes and Buns only had a few people walking around - a few in ‘street clothes’ that Eric knew they would be heading out into the ‘Muggle’ (what a weird word) side of town, and the rest in the robes that most everyone else wore. Eric had been asked a few times why he hadn’t got himself some nice robes and he’d just laughed. He might work there, but he was 100% sure that those flowing sleeves weren’t going to hold up to the amount of pie dough he found himself in on a daily basis. 

A few of the people walking past gave him friendly little waves or nods, which Eric returned. It was a pretty friendly place to work, despite how weird it could be sometimes. Everyone acted like they were living in the past, but they had some of the most hightech things that he’d ever seen - he wasn’t sure how they managed it at all, but the newspapers had moving pictures. He was pretty sure it was either some kind of smart paper or a more advanced version of those eye-trick puzzles he’d seen as a kid. Dex was always trying to tell him it was magic, with a serious expression on his face, but Eric wasn’t about to be teased by the red-head. 

“Are you okay?” A familiar voice said, snapping Eric out of his thoughts. 

Good Lord. Jack Zimmerman always looked good enough to eat. He didn’t wear the dorky pointed hats that so many other people did, and he kept his beard short and neat, rather than the long ‘duck dynasty’ versions that so many of the older guys around seemed to favour, which Eric was glad of. He wasn’t sure if it would suit Jack, hiding that jawline. 

Today he was wearing a pair of jeans and a white shirt, with a long blue cloak that matched his eyes. Eric got the feeling if he wore something like that he’d end up looking like the little kids that ran about yelling about school books and asking if they could get an owl for school. Good lord knows why they’d need an owl for school, but Eric had stopped finding stuff like that weird. “Eric?” Jack asked, stepping a little closer, snapping Bitty out of his thoughts. 

“Oh, goodness, Jack, I’m so sorry, I was a thousand miles away there!”

Jack had one of those smiles that changed the whole look of his face. Normally he had a resting-sad-face, but when he smiled it gave Eric butterflies in his gut. “Are you okay, though?” He said, eyes drifting down to Eric’s apron.

Which was covered in blood red splashes. “Oh!” He said, blushing and trying to wipe the worst of the stains on. “I didn’t even think about how bad it looks. I smashed my mixer bowl all over the floor.” He tried to smile. “Was going to do Cherry pies today. Will need to change that up.” 

Jack seemed to pause a moment, eyes drifting up to the large clock over the bank. “I have some time if you need some help?” He offered. 

* * *

Jack Zimmerman was in Eric Bittles kitchen and he was torn between showing off and trying to keep cool. Eric was apologizing for the mess, trying to clean up the mess of blood red cherry and juice from the floor and complaining about the broken ovens. 

“Dex normally manages to get them to work without too much worry, but he’s not due until later today, because it was his date night with Derek last night.” 

Jack nodded. It was pretty well known that Dex and Nursey had been dating for a while, even though if you’d ever seen the two of them together you’d be hard pressed to think that they were doing anything other than arguing. Pulling out his wand from the holster that he kept it, a nice leather wristband that his mom had bought him a few years back, he carefully pointed it to the large broken bowl that Eric had placed back on the counter. 

“Patera Reparo,” He said, giving a small flick with his wand. He knew that the British schools taught it with a swish, but he’d still never been able to shake his own teachers lessons. He watched with a critical eye as the heavy ceramic gave a little shake and carefully moved so that it came together, small flicker of magic working along the larger cracks to seal it back into one piece. Happy with the result, he look over his shoulder where Eric was looking at him with slacked jaw awe. He couldn’t help but preen under that look. “Do you want me to look at the ovens too?” Jack asked, smiling at Eric when the other man nodded mutely. “I know they teach it a little different at Hogwarts,” Jack found himself saying as he leveled his wand. “But Bay Isles isn’t as backward at the Brits act.” He paused for a second, trying to get the words right in his mind before he moved his wand into the figure of eight pattern he’d been taught. “Clibano instaurandum templum.” He carefully enunciated. Nothing seemed to happen for a moment, and then a little red light turned on, and Eric jerked a little, like he’d been shocked. “That should do it.” Jack nodded, feeling pretty pleased that he’d been able to do something, no matter how small, for Eric. 

“Uh-huh.” Eric said after a second, looking at the bowl and the ovens. “That sure looks… like it.” He nodded. “Um.” 

Jack smiled. “I really need to get to work,” He said, “But I can pop by later? For those muffins?”

Eric nodded hardly seeming to hear Jack at all, which wasn’t great. That was the exact opposite of what Jack wanted. “Or I could send Holster in?”

“Uh-huh.” Eric nodded, eyes flitting back to the bowl. “Right.”

Jack felt himself deflate a little. “Okay. Later, Bittle.”

“Sure.” Eric nodded, eyes not leaving the oven, which was already starting to heat up.

* * *

It wasn’t normal for Trip B to be closed, especially not on a Wednesday morning when everyone liked to pop in for something for breakfast, then stop in for something sweet at lunch.

He shouldered his way through the small crowd of regulars who all managed to look a little worried at him as he unlocked the door. 

“Is everything okay?” Someone asked, as he fumbled with the key. 

“Yes.” Dex agreed, “Probably the ovens again, okay? We’ll be open tomorrow.” 

Inside, the front of the shop was dark - that wasn’t normal, but the whole place had a warm, homey aroma that certainly was. “Eric?” Dex called out, walking through to the back. Every surface was covered in pies, cakes, sheets of cookies and loaves. Dex paused. Eric was a great beaker, but even this was a bit overkill for the day. The man himself was standing in the middle of it all, looking at the oven with an expression of pure confusion. 

“Eric?” Dex tried again, and watched as the shorter man's whole body jerked like he’d been hexed. “Is everything okay?”

“The oven broke again this morning.” Bitty said, distantly. “Jack Zimmerman popped in and fixed it.”

Dex nodded, looked around and… oh.

“Um, how…. Did he fix it?” Dex asked, looking at the trays and trays of cookies and had a good idea that whatever Jack did probably wasn’t quite as subtle as Dex had tried in the past. 

“He used a magic wand.” Eric said, and pulled out a tray of pies from the oven. “He pointed a wand at my oven and it started to work.”

Dex held his breath. 

“Because he’s magic.” Eric said. Putting the hot tray on one of the only empty spots on the counter top. “Because it’s all magic.” He added. “Because of course all those times that you said, ‘Oh, it’s magic’ you weren’t being funny, you were telling the truth.” He glared at Dex. “Weren't you?”

Dex managed a nod. 

“Because it’s not just animatronics or tricks or cute little kids in dress up, it’s actually real.” The hand that was holding the tray started to shake a little as it was placed down, causing a rattle that Dex could feel in his bones. “Did you think it was funny?” He asked, after a moment. “To let me think it was fake? Was everyone making fun of me? This whole time?”

Dex was a lot of things. He was related to the Weasleys, he wasn’t so great at curses and he failed his DADA class so bad that his teacher once told him it was a good thing that Death Eaters were no longer a thing. But he wasn’t a jerk. He reached out and pulled Eric into a bone crushing hug. 

“No. Not at all. No one thinks that.” He said, holding Eric a little tighter when it felt like the man was going to try to struggle out of the hold. “You know how much people love you here. Everyone thinks you’re muggle born, or a squ- a non-magic wizard.” He said, correcting at the last moment. “Look, you work in Diagon Alley! It’s the most magical place in Britain. No one thinks you don’t belong here, not at all.” 

Hugging Eric was like hugging a marble statue for a moment before the young man seemed to melt into the embrace. “I feel like such an idiot.” He mumbled into Dex’s shirt. “It’s so obvious now that I know.” 

Dex nodded. “I bet. But think about it, you work here, you live here! There is a queue of people waiting outside worried that something’s gone really wrong because the shop isn’t open and they want to make sure you’re okay. Honestly, the most people talk about round here is now long it’ll take Jack to-” He gave Eric another tight squeeze before pulling away, give a cough and looking around, trying to cover up what he had almost let slip. “If you want, after we’re done today, I can sit you down and talk all about it, the schools, spells, wands - you know, there was a war and everything that muggles don’t even know about?”

“Magic is real.” Eric said, pulling back, looking around at the trays and trays of cakes and pies. “Is that why my phone won’t work here?”

* * *

Jack walked into Triple B and didn’t think too much about the long lines of people waiting to be served. Normally around this time at the lunch hour rush there would already be some bald spots on the displays, but today it looked like they’d been restocked recently - not a space in sight. Eric must have really gotten on with things once the ovens had been fixed. Jack took a moment of pride to think that he’d been the one to help Eric out. It wasn’t a huge deal, and sure, maybe he hadn’t seemed all that impressed with it, but Jack liked to be able to imagine that Eric had been secretly thrilled. 

When he got to the front of the line, Eric was there. He had a smudge of flour over his nose that made him look at least 50% more adorable than any one person had a right to be, and Jack momentarily forgot how to form words. 

“Oh, hello Sweetpea!” Eric beamed, and Jack just knew that he was blushing hard. His ears already felt hot, and he knew that the other people in the line were giving him knowing looks. He didn’t pay a lot of attention to what was going on around him, but he did know (thanks to Shitty) about the bet going around - Jack would be more than happy to settle it once and for all, but he never managed to string more than a couple of words together in Erics presence. “I got a little carried away with the baking this morning.” Eric smiled, “So I added a couple extras in with your order, I hope you don’t mind.”

Jack nodded. His mouth seemed to have gone very dry. He’d managed to talk to Eric only a few hours ago - why was he finding it so difficult now? He reached into his pocket to pull out his coin purse, only to watch as Eric waved his hand.

“Don’t be silly, darlin’, you were such a help this mornin’, what with fixin the ovens and mending up my favorite bowl. I couldn’t possibly charge you a single thing.” 

Jack nodded, and tried to hold back a blush when Eric’s fingers brushed against his as the smaller man passed over a couple of rather heavy pie boxes. “Now you tell Holster that the key lime mini pie is his, but that apple maple is just for you, okay, sweetheart?” 

Perhaps it was just Jacks imagination when Eric smiled at him for a second longer than normal, or the slight way that the apples of his cheeks went a little pinker than the peachy complexion he normally had. 

“Maple Apple sounds nice.” he finally managed. He knew he was holding the line up, but Eric was smiling at him softly and Jack got a 45 minute break that he was going to make the most of. At least Eric’s strange mood from the morning had worn off. And he’d called him sweetpea. And sweetheart. He managed another smile, heart skipping when Eric beamed back at him. 

“You’re holding up the line, loverboy.” Someone muttered behind him, and Jack gave a little jump before sheepishly nodding and moving out of the way. 

* * *

It took three days for Eric to work up the confidence to walk across the street and push open the door to one of the most cluttered shops he’d ever been into in his life. Three days of sitting after hours with Dex, three days of reading and learning. 

“I’ve been expecting you, Mr Bittle.” A voice said, from the back of the shop, which was stacked from floor to ceiling with small, narrow boxes. Eric now knew what they contained. It made the shop even more imposing. 

Ollivander was the oldest person Eric had ever seen in his life. Dex had told him about the great war, when the older man had been taken captive, when it looked like the darkness would win. “I don’t think it’ll work.” Eric managed, finding his voice had a little waiver in it that he’d hoped the older man wouldn't pick up on. “But I have to try at least.” 

The old man appeared from the back of the shop looking smaller and frailer than any other time Eric had seen him. He was carrying a few boxes, some looked new, and others, faded with age. 

“I always thought that your skill in the kitchen went beyond the normal.” He smiled, and looked pointedly at the box in Erics hand. 

Eric shrugged. “I thought showing up empty handed would just be plain rude.” 

“Put it down on the desk, then, and lets get started.” 

* * *

Jack was walking home when he saw Eric standing in the middle of Ollivanders shop, waving a wand in his hand. Around him were a few dozen boxes, and the owner was smiling, nodding and eating a pie right out of the box. 

Jack couldn’t have stopped his feet from taking him into the shop for all the gold in Gringotts. 

Eric turned at the sound of the bell giving a playful ‘tring’ as Jack walked in, but Ollivander didn’t seem all that surprised. 

“Ah, Jack here uses a Sequoia, 14 inches. Inflexible.” The older man said, without pausing to take the wand Eric had been holding out of his hand and putting it back into its box, opening other seemingly at random and holding it out to Eric. “American made, old wood - good for his line of work. Werewolf nail as a core, if I’m not mistaken?”

Jack nodded, impressed. “Oh, it’s my job to know these things.” The older man shrugged. “Eric here might just have some latent magic in his bones, and we’re testing it out.”

Eric blushed and gave a halfhearted wave of the wand in his hand. Nothing happened. “I think I might be wasting your time, Sir,” He started, but Ollivander just waved him off, “We are never too old to find a gift,” He said, rather cryptically, before wandering off further into the shop.

Eric looked up at Jack. “I expected him to just laugh at me and send me back, but he seems to think that my letter got lost.” 

Jack nodded, sitting on one of the stools at the counter. “Why did it take you so long to try and find out?” The boxes on the counter were easier to look at than Eric, he could. Some of them crisp and new, others faded, with softer corners and a couple slightly bent. 

“You’ll laugh.” Eric mumbled, and Jack risked looking up. 

Eric was standing there, blush high on his cheeks, looking shy and embarrassed and more beautiful than anyone else Jack had ever seen in his life. “I promise I won't.” He vowed. 

“I thought it was all fake.” Eric said, voice low. “I thought it was just all made up and tricks! And then you fixed the oven and I…” He paused, taking a breath. “I thought… oh. This makes a lot more sense. And Dex has been telling me all about it and it just seems… I dunno, so normal?”

Jack nodded, but his head was reeling. Eric wasn’t a squib at all, he was a muggle? Just a regular, no magic at all, muggle? He remembered his mother telling him how hard it had been to get used to being married to a wizard - and Eric hadn’t anyone to help him through the transition. “But then I came in here and Mr Ollivander said that Ilvermorny wasn’t really able to cover all of American and a lot of students never got their letters, and it would explain how I found the Cauldron in the first place… so…” He shrugged and looked at all the boxes. “He’s being very nice about it all.” 

“Here we go.” Ollivanders voice said, from at the back of the shop. “This is… oh, very old. Not one of mine, but my grandfather made it. A good wand.” 

When he appears, the box is soft with age, obviously been kept at the bottom of a lager stack. The print is all but illegible and when the lid is removed there is a fine puff of dust the fills the air. Eric, who takes one look at all the other boxes scattered around, and sighs, picking it up in his right hand and giving it a slight ‘shwish’. It’s shorter than the other wants, Jack can tell - maybe 7 or 8 inches - but when Eric waves it, the boxes that were sitting on the counter moved - lining up perfectly and into neat piles. 

Eric blinked. Jack blinked. 

Ollivander smiled. “Oh, you’ll never be a great Wizard, Mr Bittle. It’s too late for that now, and this isn’t the wand for it. But it’ll be good for basic charms and helpful little housekeeping spells.” 

* * *

Ollivander watched as Eric, overcome with excitement, threw himself at Jack Zimmerman. The larger man, who might have been a little slow in asking out the baker, certainly wasn’t slow in returning the very enthusiastic embrace that Eric wrapped him in. 

After a few moments, Eric seemed to remember that he was still standing in the shop, and blushed hard, easing himself out of Jacks arms. “Oh goodness, I’m so sorry sweetpea, I just…” He laughed “Last week I didn’t even know about any of this and today I find out I’m a wizard!” 

“I’m sure that Mr Zimmerman would be more than willing to help you with some basic charms that you can learn.” Ollivander prompted. He might lose a little money on the bet, but who was he to stand in the way of true love?

“Oh, yeah!” Jack agreed, almost instantly. “Of course!”

Eric bounced on the balls of his feet, face bright with joy. “Over dinner, maybe?”

Jacks answering smile was warm, making him look much younger. Ollivander remembered feeling like that once. “It’s a date.” The dark headed man said, and well… Eric Bittle looked like he’d just been given all of his Christmases at once. 

After they left, not quite hand in hand, but closer than was strictly necessary, shoulders brushing together, Ollivander opened up his ledger. 

> Eric Bittle - 24. 7 ½ inches - Peach Wood with braided Veela and Kelpie Hair. Delicate. 

Sure, he may have lost his bet, but as he looked up and watched Eric bashfully slide his hand into Jacks, he founded he didn’t mind too much at all.

_And_ he still had half a pie. 

**Author's Note:**

> It's taken me so long to get this out and I struggled with every single line, I'm not going to lie.  
> I've had to take so many pills that focusing on writing was like the last thing I wanted to do, so I'm really sorry if there are glaring, obvious mistakes here.   
> I just wanted to get something done this week despite the painmeds. 
> 
> I changed a few things - added lawyers, changed Jack to being from Regina because of the MooseJaw thing, added a Canadian magic school and a new bank, and like, loads of other stuff just so I could shoehorn it in there.
> 
> Nonny on Tumble asked for a HP universe zimbits. Ta-da!


End file.
